Vignettes of a Newfound Life
by Gecko Osco
Summary: A Simple Ghost Story epilogue.  Life is an experience you must live, especially if you've been dead for a hundred years. 10 snippets of Arthur and Alfred's life.  Non-linear; USUK, some Prussia/Hungary, Canada/Ukraine.


**TITLE:** Vignettes of a Newfound Life: A Simple Ghost(Love) Story Epilogue  
**GENRE:** Romance/humor, a teeny bit of angst, fluff  
**PAIRING(S):** USUK, some Prussia/Hungary, Canada/Ukraine  
**RATING: **R**  
WARNINGS:**Men having sex, language, human names, magical creatures  
**SUMMARY:** Life is an experience you must live, especially when you've been dead for a hundred years.  
**NOTES:** This is a gift for both **absolute_power** who was a fantastic beta, and **kupodesu** on LJ who gave me such a wonderful idea in the first place! It's not necessary to read the previous story...but it'll make a whole lot more sense if you do! Enjoy and remember, reviews are love!

* * *

**_Vignettes of a Newfound Life: A Simple Ghost(Love) Story Epilogue_**

**Cookies**

Arthur did not know how to cook. Alfred had told him multiple times in varying ways and yet still, the former ghost attempted to cook dinner, lunch, and breakfast with a grim sort of determination, no matter the scorch marks he left in his wake. Alfred wasn't even really sure why Arthur insisted in trying to prove he could bake something edible, as he certainly didn't cook a lot in his previous life when he'd had servants who had done that sort of thing for him, but he did and Alfred was stuck with it. And the small fires that erupted in their kitchen. But Alfred had a fire extinguisher in there now and had made it a priority after fire number one to show Arthur how to use the device and how to use it quickly.

Alfred was home earlier than he thought and he could smell the acrid scent of burning butter almost immediately; he grimaced and gagged as he tossed off his jacket and messenger bag on the couch. He had a bright smile on his face when he waltzed into the kitchen though, sneaking up behind Arthur who looked deep in thought as he mixed a chalky looking batter, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Arthur had a smear of flour across his cheek, which really made Alfred want to lick it off (regardless of how gross flour tasted); he resisted though, he didn't want to get smacked with the spatula.

"Watcha makin'?"

"It's 'what are you making' and cookies. Sugar cookies to be precise. That book says they are a common cookie to make at Christmas."

Alfred stifled a laugh as he looked at the very brown looking batter, not at all the creamy gold color of sugar cookies his mother always seemed to produce when baking, and placed a soft kiss to Arthur's flour-covered cheek before letting him go. Seriously, how the heck did Arthur manage to mess up the recipe that bad? "Want any help?"

"No! I'm perfectly capable of making these on my own! I just—I just need to figure out how to make these blasted lumps go away…" Alfred did laugh as he heard the mumbled last bit, grabbing a bottle of water from their fridge. "If you're only going to laugh at my efforts I certainly don't need to hover as I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Not laughing at you, Iggy, laughing at the general, you know, picture." Alfred gestured at the messiness of their kitchen with a wide grin, feeling a bloom of warmth at the small, rueful smile that overtook Arthur's face as he glanced around him at the mess he'd made. He met Alfred' smile for a moment before he huffed and motioned imperiously at the sink of dirty dishes.

"Well, if you insist on hanging about you might as well make yourself useful! You can start by cleaning those."

Alfred scoffed and sat down at the table. "Yeah right! I just got home, it's my time to relax!"

"And just lazing about is relaxing to you, while I work?"

"No, watching you is though." Alfred grinned at the flush of red that spread across Arthur's cheeks. It didn't matter how long they were together, Alfred would never get tired of seeing how _alive_ Arthur looked whenever his face flushed, be it in anger, embarrassment or…well, you know.

"We-well I'm making these damnable things for you, you wanker! The least you could do to help is clean up!"

Alfred finished his water and gave a pout, but stood up and walked over towards the sink. "Okay, okay, you grumpy old man. Let's hope you don't poison us with those cookies."

"My cooking is not hazardous to your bloody health!"

Alfred laughed and leaned over to place a kiss on the frowning lips as he slipped on gloves and began heating up soapy water in the sink. No, Arthur couldn't cook, and Alfred had a sinking feeling he'd have to be wheeled to the hospital one of these days from eating something the Briton had made, but that didn't matter. Because as Alfred took a bite of the rock hard, burnt cookies, stifling his gag reflex and the urge to spit it out on the now clean countertop, Arthur gave him a look of affection and happiness that made it all worthwhile.

Even potential food poisoning.

* * *

**Crowds**

Arthur was not the most outgoing of people. At first, Alfred had wondered if it was an after-effect of being, well, dead for so long, but as more time went on and Arthur got more and more used to being alive again, he figured that was just his personality. He had made friends with Santos*, one of Alfred's fellow comic book artists at his publishing house, and he got along well with Kiku and Mattie, and always made sure Elizaveta and Gilbert stayed with them when they visited the States, but he genuinely enjoyed his private time and was perfectly content to keep his social circle small. Alfred really didn't have many complaints against this as it meant he got to spend more time with Arthur but a small voice in the back of his mind wondered if Arthur would be happier with more friends.

Granted, it was kind of hard to talk about himself and his life when he'd been a ghost for the past hundred odd years, but still. Santos had accepted it well enough, he was sure others might too.

Alfred, however, was a quintessential social butterfly and had been since he'd been a kid. He had lots of friends and friends of friends and random people he met in coffee shops but ended up loving sci-fi movies as much as him, and he liked spending time with them too. And he wanted them to meet Arthur, who was probably the most important person in his life and therefore something to brag about to his friends (who were starting to think he made Arthur up as they'd never met him). Arthur could be friends with some of them too; Alfred was sure that he and Toris would get along great, and that Arthur would like Angelique* and all her funny stories. He wasn't sure about Francis; the guy was French and a pervert—Arthur had made it clear what he thought about the French and perverts.

So, he'd come up with, what he had thought at the time to be, an awesome plan; Arthur was going to be his date at Comic-Con this year. He'd get to travel, see all the fans of his comic, which Arthur held a soft spot for as it had been crucial to their meeting and subsequent relationship, and get to meet a lot of his friends who always went with him each year. And while he'd been a bit wary at first, once Alfred had unleashed his patented Puppy Pout of Doom (Mattie had christened that, not Alfred), he'd given in and agreed, as long as he didn't need to dress up or anything. Alfred had entertained the thought of Arthur dressed up as an X-men, if nothing else just to see his boyfriend's wonderful body in spandex, before agreeing and hurriedly pulling him towards their bedroom.

So now, here they were, at the most epic of gatherings, and Arthur was looking miserable. He was trying to look bored but he was failing—Alfred had a feeling that the large amount of people and all the noise and cameras flashing were bothering him more than he was willing to let on. It made him feel horribly guilty for convincing him to come in the first place just to meet his friends (who thought he was fascinating, given the whole 'used to be dead' thing, but otherwise a little grumpy…predictably, Arthur did not like Francis). Of course Arthur wouldn't like crowds; he'd lived in a secluded home for most of his life and afterlife, he'd always been uncomfortable in airports and any time there were large gatherings of people. Alfred felt horrible and selfish and totally un-heroic for coming up with the whole idea; he waited until a group of Captain Liberty fans scampered off before tugging Arthur aside into a quiet corner and shooting the puzzled face an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Iggy."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Sorry for what?"

"For, you know, dragging you here. I didn't think that you wouldn't like crowds or that it'd make you uncomfortable or anything! I just wanted you to meet my friends and you like the comic so much I thought you'd have fun but—"

Arthur sighed and shook his head as he placed a hand over Alfred's moving lips, effectively halting their rambling. "Don't apologize, it's certainly not your fault I prefer less populated activities, especially considering I'd already been 'enjoying' my solitude for near a hundred years before you were even born."

"Yeah but—!"

Arthur glanced around to make sure no one was looking (he was still a little uptight about blatant displays of affection in public…Alfred blamed all that Victorian propaganda he'd been raised in) before he kissed Alfred quickly and softly. "It-well, I expect it's for the best, really. Can't very well live all my life shut away, now can I? I believe I've done enough of that already."

Alfred stared at Arthur for a moment before he clasped their hands together, tucking them under his chin and enjoying the flustered blush that spread across his face. "Really? You're sure? Because we can totally leave if you're just saying that to not make me feel like such an ass!"

"Why else would I say so?" Arthur tugged away a bit, green eyes focused down but still keeping their hands linked together. "Just, don't bloody well run off without me, all right?"

Alfred smiled and hugged Arthur close, spinning them around and drawing a few stares before he set the embarrassed and annoyed looking man down. "You got it, Iggy."

Arthur shoved Alfred away a bit when his feet hit the ground again, but settled back beside him only moments later as they headed back out into the masses. He grinned and bumped Arthur with his shoulder, enjoying the exasperated look that the shorter man sent his way, some discomfort still evident in his body language but looking more relaxed beside him. Alfred couldn't help the slight bounce to his step as they walked back up to his friends; he was happy that not only was Arthur willing to try to change after so long, but that he was willing to try it for _him_.

* * *

**Touch**

It was hot, unbearably so really, and Arthur felt as if that heat was going straight to his head, making him dizzy, making it harder to breathe. Although, the difficulty he had catching his breath likely had to do with the fact that Alfred was currently kiss the bloody daylights out of him as opposed to the heat swirling around his head, trickling over his skin. He arched into the fiery touch of Alfred's hands and let out a breathy gasp as Alfred's lips trailed away from his own and down his neck. He felt overwhelmed, drowning in scorching heat and thought belatedly that it couldn't possibly be healthy for his skin to be this heated; it hardly mattered though. All that Arthur cared about, all that mattered in the world, in their moment, was that Alfred did not stop his hands, his lips, or the heat building between them.

Arthur had been nervous. His only experience with sex had been brief trysts with a few noble ladies when he'd been a teenager and trying to deny what he feared he truly wanted, the fleeting encounters with Antonio in an abandoned broom closet and what he had been forced to watch or listen to over the years in his ghostly existence. He knew the world was different now, that society, for the most part, had a much more casual acceptance of sex, that it was likely Alfred had been much more intimate with other partners before Arthur. He knew that he shouldn't feel jealous or inadequate in comparison, he'd grown up in a vastly different time after all, but knowing didn't stop the doubts from creeping. He loved Alfred, truly and deeply loved him in a way he'd never felt before—he didn't want to disappoint or take away from their first attempt at sex with his inexperienced fumbling.

Alfred, however, had been surprisingly bashful when Arthur had first broached the conversation, a far cry from what the former ghost had been expecting. He'd expected Alfred to, not so much brag, but attempt to reassure and tell him that sex wasn't that big of a deal anymore and to quit his 'moping'—he hadn't done any of those things. Instead, Alfred had taken his hands with a red face and mumbled that he had never really gone 'all the way' with a guy before either, that he'd never felt strongly enough with any of his previous (which were not many) partners to do so. That sex was a big deal and that he didn't see the point in it if emotions weren't behind it. Arthur, if possible, fell just a bit more for the young man after hearing that.

Which led them to now, Alfred hovering over Arthur and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses onto Arthur's bare chest, his own shirt (and pants) long forgotten on the floor. Arthur had a hard time remembering the details of his former life, as it had been well over one hundred and twenty years ago since he'd died, but he was fairly sure whatever dalliances he'd had, Antonio included, could never measure up to what he was feeling now with Alfred. Could never hope to mimic the thrill he felt in his spine when Alfred had answered Arthur's enthusiastic kiss with a strength and passion that made the Briton's knees feel weak. Could never match up to the furious build up and heat as they stumbled through the apartment and onto the bed. He had never, _never_ felt anything like what was forming between him and Alfred now; Arthur tugged at Alfred's hair and brought those lips back, kissing the younger man with all that he had, smiling into the kiss as Alfred let out a groan as Arthur bent his legs and thrust up.

Alfred swore and pulled away to tug off his lone article of clothing, his grin wide as he hooked fingers in Arthur's underwear and slowly tugged them off; Arthur had to fight down the urge to chuckle. Alfred really was adorable when he was trying to be seductive; it was all part of his charm really, just made him mean that much more to Arthur. He lifted his hips up and tried to fight down the nervous blush he felt creep up his neck at being completely naked with Alfred for the first time, at the frank, appreciative sounds Alfred was making as he crawled back up, his fingers leaving trails of fire along Arthur's skin. Alfred kissed him hard, nipping at Arthur's bottom lip until he darted his tongue inside, his large, calloused hands that were nearly always stained with ink gripping his hips tight. Arthur reached up and gripped Alfred's hair hard, meeting every lick, every bite, every stroke with his own until he could feel Alfred shaking with arousal. Neither had yet to move their hips.

As neither had really planned to be having sex, they were missing essentials like condoms and lube (and Barry White music Alfred said, whoever that was) which kept them from diving too far too fast. That was fine though, in Arthur's opinion—they had their whole lives to experience, didn't they? No need to rush anything physical between them, no need to rush past all the other things they could make memories out of. Arthur smirked and rolled his hips up against Alfred's, biting his lip to keep the moan inside as their erections slid against each other; Alfred gasped and gripped hard enough to leave bruises, rolling his own hips down to meet Arthur's.

They had to try a few times before the found a rhythm that fit both of them, but they found it and then nothing else existed except the needy sounds Alfred kept making, the heat that was rushing through Arthur faster and faster, to intense for him to do more than gasp out Alfred's name like a prayer. They moved faster, thrust harder, kissed with a frantic sort of sloppiness that left traces behind every time they broke until Arthur arched his back like a bow string and felt his world thrum into white, explode into color and leave him feeling as if he'd died all over again. Alfred followed shortly after, a muffled groan that sounded perilously close to a sob pressed into Arthur's shoulder—he all but collapsed on top of Arthur, he was too tired to shove him off and too warm to even want to. He reached around and ran his hands up and down Alfred's slick back, unable to suppress the smile he felt bloom at the utterly sated look Alfred gave him, blue eyes glassed over and completely enamored.

"That was pretty fucking awesome."

Arthur frowned but did little more than slap Alfred's shoulder in half-hearted annoyance. "Must you speak so childish?"

"Oh come on! It was—what would you call it then?"

Arthur smirked up at ceiling. "Bloody brilliant."

Alfred crawled up and nipped Arthur's chin. "Which is British-speak for awesome."

Arthur smiled and kissed Alfred soundly, rolling them over so he straddled Alfred's hips, his nose scrunching for a moment as he surveyed the sticky mess covering their abdomens. He kissed him again, slow and hot, leaning into the hands that ran up his sides. "Oh, shut it, love."

"Yes sir!"

They kissed and kissed until the sun came up.

* * *

**Milkshake**

Arthur had been dubious at first, but in the whirlwind that had been the past few weeks of his 'new' life, he found that not only was Alfred a wonderful guide to the world but also an honest one and did not knowingly lead him astray. In fact, ever since he'd been returned back to life, Alfred had been exceedingly sensitive to his need to acclimate and adapt to the vastly different world he found himself reborn into. Sure, he'd heard of the changes that had happened, the wars that had been fought and had seen the changes technology heralded when he had visitors staying in his home, but it was another thing entirely to experience all those things. And Alfred, who had always struck Arthur has being a bit insensitive about emotional things (not all the time, but enough), had seemed to understand how overwhelmed Arthur was and had taken great pains to make sure he never got too worked up or upset over how different the world was from what he remembered.

A large part of that had to do with Alfred's eagerness to 'reintroduce' Arthur to the world himself and experiencing everything was more enjoyable with Alfred's genuine excitement and affection over Arthur's reactions and awe. It still was unreal to believe all that had happened, that Alfred had not only fallen for someone, something really, like a ghost and had somehow tapped into the magic that had always surrounded Arthur and actually grant him life again! That he gave Arthur his heart to share…it was more than Arthur had expected of anyone in all the time he'd witnessed them in his afterlife and yet, Alfred had done so without hesitation. He had not thought it was possible to feel so many things at once, but Alfred evoked that and more in Arthur—he thought it had almost been worth it to die all those years ago since it gave him the chance to meet Alfred.

But he certainly wasn't some emotional twat who kept thinking on those sorts of things, so moving on.

He was sitting down at a red booth at a rather greasy looking restaurant, tapping on the glossy table and flipping the pages on a small, mechanical device on the table next to bottles of ketchup and mustard. Alfred called it a juke box and if you gave it a nickel, it would play a song from the list provided; Arthur was of course, not familiar with any of them, apart from Elvis Presley who he had become familiar with when a tenant in the manor years ago had listened to his music near nonstop the entire week-long stay, but Alfred had picked one before he hurried off to grab their order. He had dragged Arthur to the diner because there was something here he 'needed to try because it would change his life' and Arthur, who had not been able to eat anything as a ghost and now reveled in the taste and texture of food, had hardly found reason to deny him.

He looked away from the juke box as Alfred walked back over, sliding a metal glass in front of him filled with a pink looking drink before sliding into the seat opposite from him, his own metal glass with brown liquid inside. Arthur glanced at the eager look on Alfred's face before he fingered the chilled spoon hesitantly. "Thank you."

"No problem! You should eat it though, it's not as good when it goes warm!" Alfred smiled and began to dig into his own dessert-looking-drink with his spoon, something Arthur had to assume was chocolate flavored based on the color.

Arthur took a deep breath and lifted a spoonful of the pink mess up to his mouth, took a bite of the strawberry 'milkshake' and swallowed it, giving a tiny shiver at how cold it was. However, the fact that it was cold was negligible because the moment it passed his lips the sweet, wonderful taste exploded on his tongue and his lips turned up in a pleased smile unconsciously. It was sweet, creamy, and wholly unlike anything he had ever tasted while living or anything Alfred had introduced him to in life; there were even real strawberries mixed into the milkshake. He took another bite with a bit more enthusiasm than the first and closed his eyes, savoring the taste, before he swallowed and looked back up at Alfred. The younger man was smirking at him as he ate another spoonful of chocolate milkshake, which made Arthur blush a bit (he hated how easily Alfred could make him blush) as he took a smaller bite of his treat.

"So…you like it, uh?"

Arthur debated for a moment on how to respond as he licked his spoon clean. On the one hand, he could tell the truth that he had never tasted anything quite like the milkshake and it was in fact better than a nice cup of tea (that part was so blasphemous it could stay private) and have to put up with an insufferably smug Alfred for the rest of the day for having been proven right when Arthur had doubted the merits of something called a milkshake. Or, he could lie and Alfred would know he was lying and be even more insufferable and possibly take away his treat, which would prompt Arthur to snatch it back and prove him right anyways. Alfred's grin grew wider the longer Arthur thought about his answer, tapping his spoon against the top of the metal cup and making that ridiculous Jeopardy game show music as well. He had recently been introduced to that show the previous week.

Arthur opened his mouth to respond before he gave a huff and ate another spoonful of milkshake, trying to look annoyed at how Alfred chuckled at his response before he began happily eating his own milkshake again, his feet playing with Arthur's under the table.

* * *

**Graveyard**

"Are you really sure you want to do this? It seems kinda unhealthy."

"I'm sure and it's not unhealthy."

"Yeah, but don't you think there's better ways to go about finding closure then visiting your own grave along with those of the people who murdered you?"

"If you suggest a psychiatrist one more time, I'm going to make sure the next several weeks are very unpleasant for you."

"All right, all right, jeez. No need to get all snappy, just trying to help."

Arthur paused in his steps, his dark brown coat wrapped around him along with a scarf to ward away the autumn chill; Alfred had on his reliable bomber jacket and was wearing a scarf that Arthur had made for him. "You're helping by being here. You didn't have to come, I am capable of boarding a plane on my own now, after all."

"Yeah, like I'd let you come out here and face those jackasses alone!"

"Alfred, they're dead. They can't do anything."

Alfred tucked his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket and frowned at the scattered leaves littered around their feet. He hadn't wanted Arthur to come back to England to visit his family's burial grounds; first off, it was weird to visit the place where your old body was buried and decomposing in the ground and second, his family had been the ones who murdered him! His oldest brother had stabbed him until he bled to death for being 'involved' with another guy and his other brothers and mother had _let_ him be murdered. Not his most favorite of people, even if their actions had brought about his and Arthur's eventual meeting and their current relationship in a roundabout way. Arthur didn't owe anything to them and Alfred couldn't figure out why he wanted to visit their plot after being alive for 10 years.

But, Alfred knew that if Arthur was anything, he was stubborn and he wasn't about to let him go on his own; it would be nice to see Elizaveta and Gilbert again too anyways.

They had visited with the married couple for a few days before eventually heading out to the old Kirkland manor, which the realtor, Vash, had recently been able to sell for real now that there wasn't a ghost haunting it anymore. They spoke with the new owners, a large German named Ludwig who was Gilbert's brother and his hyperactive, Italian partner Feliciano, before heading out the back and across the grounds towards where the family plot was. It helped that they had already been informed of Arthur's unique story by Elizaveta so they didn't get any odd questions as to why they wanted to visit a graveyard of some old family. The plot rested right along the edge of the small forest, looking as if it had once been kept neat but now had grown a bit wild after not being cared for.

Arthur's hand grazed over his hip, a slightly sympathetic, more amused, look in his eyes as he gave Alfred a small smile. "It's fine, love. They're gone and I'm still here, not going anywhere; just give me a moment alone and then we can leave."

He placed a soft kiss against Alfred's lips before stepping away and heading over to where his more immediate family was located. Alfred watched Arthur weave through the headstones for a moment before he felt a soft, warm furry cheek rest on his shoulder. He blinked and looked over his shoulder to find Clover there, the beautiful unicorn blinking deep blue eyes and tossing back his equally dark blue mane as he fixed Alfred with a knowing look. Jeez, Alfred hated unicorns…even more than the pixies that always followed Arthur around. Though, Clover had been pretty crucial in bringing Arthur back to life—Alfred rolled his eyes but gave the gleeful unicorn a pat on his neck.

"I thought you guys moved out of that forest." Alfred once would have thought he was crazy for seeing and talking to things like unicorns, pixies, and brownies, but that was before he fell in love with a ghost. Now, nothing 'magical' seemed to faze him; though his brother did give him odd looks now, along with Arthur, when he started talking to fairies who liked to pop in back home and check on Arthur. Alfred blamed Arthur for being able to 'see' all the creatures; Arthur felt no guilt and was even pleased with himself, saying that it was because he shared hearts with Arthur now and to 'belt up' about it. "After Arthur left and all."

"Contrary to popular belief, unicorns are not, in any way shape or form, similar to horses, and therefore do not like to migrate. Our herd is perfectly content staying where we've been for the past millennia or so. If one needs to travel, it certainly does not mean that one must never come back."

"You know, I still can't figure out _how_ you and Blossom managed to visit Arthur last year for his rebirth birthday. Did you sneak on a boat or something?" Alfred had taken to celebrating Arthur's birthday twice a year, once on his old birthday and once on the day he came back to life; Arthur blustered and stammered about the fuss, but didn't try to stop Alfred, so he kept doing it each year.

Clover snorted as he removed his head from Alfred's shoulder. "Just because you can't figure it out doesn't mean I should tell you. I will only say that unicorns are exceedingly clever and a little thing like a body of water certainly won't stop us."

Alfred huffed but couldn't help the smile that grew across his face, still stroking down the unicorn's soft neck as he watched Blossom, a pale gold unicorn with even more sass and attitude than Clover, and a gaggle of pixies swarm over towards Arthur. He stood silently with Clover for a moment, just watching Arthur and how he slowly knelt down to the ground, his fingers ghosting over one of the headstones, which Alfred suspected was either his own or his mother's. He turned to Clover and asked the question Arthur hadn't been able to answer, wondering if the unicorn would be able to give an answer that made sense. "Why do you think he wants to do this? Visit his old grave and bastard family? Doesn't it seem like this would, I don't know, just make him sad?"

Alfred had seen the echo of sadness that lingered in Arthur's eyes whenever they were with Alfred's family, an old longing that he never seemed able to shake. Alfred's parents had welcomed Arthur as one of their own and had believed his extraordinary story, and while he knew Arthur cared for them just as much and was grateful for them, they reminded him of what his own family had been unable to give. That quintessential, unconditional love that was supposed to be a given from your family. It made Alfred's heart clench in sympathy whenever he saw that expression and Arthur's frustration over it when he was given all that he'd been without in his first life now. He didn't think Arthur confronting them and visiting his own grave was going to help that…it sure wouldn't help him if he was in Arthur's position.

Clover whinnied and flicked his tail before fixing Alfred with a look. A look that Alfred knew meant he was about to get lectured—Alfred hated that look. "Not all sadness is to be avoided. In fact, some is necessary to endure and move on from in order to bury what must be buried and focus on what is before you. That's the problem with you Humans…always trying to avoid sadness as much as possible. It's possible that's why the lot of you are all so emotionally stunted."

"We are NOT emotionally stunted, you stupid horse! It's called self-preservation and it's totally healthy!"

Clover looked amused and rolled his eyes. "Self-preservation, what an odd term. You 'preserve' the ill feelings and emotions within your 'self', which undoubtedly makes you feel worse, all because of the misguided notion that by doing so, you'll be avoiding some terrible pain."

Alfred opened his mouth to argue, found he really had no argument, and promptly shut his mouth with a huff. Stupid unicorns and their stupid logic.

Clover nudged him with his soft nose and blinked benignly at him, still amused no doubt but feeling a bit more sympathetic towards Alfred's worry. "Look, not everyone deals with grief that same way you would, especially a ghost who has had a century to brood and rant against the wrongs done to him. How about trying a bit of trust, mate? He knows best what he's doing, and even if he's wrong, you'll be there, right?"

"Of course I will!"

"Then no need to worry. Now, quit moping over here and go over there. I'm sure he wouldn't mind a loved one holding his hand, as long as said loved one did so silently. As difficult as that must be for you."

Clover tossed back his head and cantered back towards the woods, golden Blossom glancing over and heading back as well. Alfred glared but did as the unicorn instructed, his worry easing away a bit as Arthur squeezed his hand back and leaned into him, his warm breaths brushing against Alfred's neck. They stayed like that for a moment, silent and staring down at the remnants of Arthur's family and former life, before Arthur raised their hands and kissed Alfred's fingers, a soft, not-so-sad smile flashing towards the taller man before they headed back towards the old manor.

Stupid unicorns and how they were always stupidly right.

* * *

**Dishes**

It had been over something silly, really.

Arthur wasn't even entirely sure what had started their fight when he thought back; he only knew that soon their controlled but annoyed voices had turned into them screaming at each other and Alfred storming out of the kitchen. Arthur had stayed and fumed, pacing the floor angrily and snapping a dishtowel he'd been holding against the countertops until he exhausted his anger and was only left with hollow feelings of residual anger, guilt and self-resentment. Christ, why did he have to just blow up like that? It wasn't as if Alfred had been doing something horrible or unforgiveable, he'd just been sitting there, equally as annoyed and irritable as Arthur was. Maybe it hadn't been just one thing, maybe it had been a bunch of little things that had just built up and resulted in…in _that_.

He didn't even have a reason to be angry, Arthur mused angrily to himself. He was alive again, wasn't he? Thanks to Alfred, _everything_ thanks to Alfred! And how did he repay him? By picking a fight over nothing and insulting his eating habits and intelligence repeatedly—Arthur groaned and leaned back against the sink, covering his face with his dishtowel for a moment before taking a deep, shaky breath and turning towards the sink. He needed to do something, something to distract him for how wretched he felt. Something that didn't remind him of what an idiot he was and what an utter idiot Alfred was, because he was still angry at him for no rational reason; he needed to clean something.

He filled up the sink with hot, soapy water and began loading their dirty dishes from dinner, scraping the uneaten food into the trash noisily and not caring it was an awful waste of food. Alfred hadn't liked it anyway; Alfred never liked anything Arthur cooked. He sniffed disdainfully and focused his thoughts on cleaning, slipping on a pair of gloves and beginning his scrubbing and rinsing ritual. He knew there was a new contraption called a dishwasher that supposedly made this process easier, but Arthur preferred washing the dishes by hand; he preferred doing anything by hand, reminding himself that this wasn't some awfully wonderful dream he'd wake up from and still find himself dead and a ghost. And Alfred-less. He shook his head of the thought—he hadn't even been able to sleep as a ghost anyway.

He continued to wash the dishes, resting the clean but still somewhat soapy ones in the second basin, and was so focused in on his task that he didn't notice the other presence until he was standing right beside him, a similarly miserable look on his face. Arthur paused in his motions and stared at Alfred, his breath hitching in his throat as words tried to urge their way out but he managed to stop them. Alfred's glasses weren't on his face, making him look impossibly young and contrite, bright blue eyes staring at Arthur with remorse and hurt—Arthur wanted nothing more than to just say he was sorry for everything he'd said, but those words wouldn't come, or couldn't come. The water from the sink was the only noise between them for an unbearably long moment before Alfred reached across and ran the hot water over the clean but still soapy dishes, rinsing them off completely before he moved the faucet back to the first basin. He grabbed another dishtowel and flashed Arthur a small, hopeful, pleading smile.

"Do you, uh, want some help?" He asked even as he began drying off the dishes, eyes not looking at Arthur but glancing up at him every now and then from behind the hair in his eyes.

Arthur tried to say yes but all that came out was an embarrassing squeak so he settled for nodding, a red flush overtaking his face as he focused back on his washing. He could practically feel the relief vibrate off Alfred as the younger man continued his drying; he borrowed the water every now and then to rinse off the dishes Arthur had just washed. They settled into a slightly awkward but not uncomfortable pattern until the last of the dishes were cleaned and put away; Arthur's hands brushed against Alfred's as he reached for the same dishtowel after taking off the gloves. Neither said anything at first, just stared at the other and their hands before Alfred made his move, wrapping a hand around the back of Arthur's neck and tugging him forward.

Like a switch, Arthur finally found the words he'd been looking for, pouring out in a low, harsh whisper. "I-I'm so sorry, Alfred! I didn't, I mean I—I never—I'm so, so sorry and I—just…sorry."

Alfred took a deep breath and exhaled in Arthur's hair, his other hands trailing up and down Arthur's back. "Yeah…I'm really sorry too—I really don't think your food tastes like death…I mean, it's not the greatest but it's not that bad…and I'm happy you take the time to, you know, make it and all."

Arthur felt a smile bloom on his face and press against Alfred's shoulder. "Yes well I didn't mean to say that you were overweight or-or anything—I think it's rather obvious that you're quite, erm, quite fit."

Alfred gave a nervous chuckle before pulling away enough so they could look at each other face to face. "This was kinda a stupid fight, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I do believe so." Arthur smiled softly and rubbed one of Alfred's hands with his thumb, a rueful tone slipping into his voice. Alfred gave a quiet laugh in response before his eyes lit up with mischief.

"…but does this mean we get to have make-up sex now, since we've both made up and apologized for being jerks?"

Arthur couldn't contain the laughter that escaped him before he tried to look offended at Alfred's crass question. "What kind of man do you think I am, Mr. Jones?"

Alfred grinned and leaned in close, pinning Arthur between the young man's _very_ fit body and the kitchen counter, his mouth dangerously close to Arthur's, enough so their breath was mingling and moist against his lips. "Mine."

Arthur leaned in the rest of the way to bring their lips into a kiss, inhaling sharply through his nose and gripping Alfred's shoulders and hair fiercely as the younger man met his enthusiasm with every lick, nip and gasp. Lord, this boy would be the death of him—but considering he'd been the one to give him life again, it only seemed fitting. They staggered out of the kitchen and towards their bedroom, the light in the kitchen left on, their first fight and harsh words already forgotten.

* * *

**Movie**

"I may not be entirely versed in the field of automotives quite yet, but it seems highly improbable that a car could drive through that amount of fire and explosion and still be intact."

"You're missing the point, Iggy! It's an action movie, it's not supposed to make sense!"

Arthur flashed Alfred an annoyed look before shaking his head and stuffing his hands deeper into his jeans. Alfred paused for a second to admire how the tight pants hugged his boyfriend's hips and legs (they were new, a present from his mom who thought having a newly reanimated ghost for a future son-in-law meant she could shop for him all the time like he was a doll because he didn't have 'enough things of his own' or something), which earned him a blush and smack to the shoulder.

"Quit that, you pervert! We're in public!"

"So? It's your own fault for wearing those jeans. But anyway, did you really not enjoy the movie? Really? It was a nonstop adrenaline joy ride! How could you not like it?"

"I didn't say I didn't like it—it just seemed a little, unrealistic of a story."

Alfred nodded, conceding the very valid point. Alfred hadn't even been sure there _had _been a storyline in the movie. "But it was cool though, right? All the special effects and action scenes?"

Arthur considered for a moment before he nodded. "It's fascinating how different the world is simply because of a computer."

"I can't wait to introduce you to 3D! I'll pick something good—they've got another Narnia movie coming out, those were written by a British guy, right? It's got British kids in it…"

"English, _English_ children." Arthur cocked an eyebrow at Alfred as they walked back to his parked car. "It isn't as if this is the first movie I've seen, you know. We watched some at home and I've watched plenty when residents played them in the manor."

"Well, yeah I know that, but it's way different when you actually see a movie at the theater, you know? It's bigger and louder, and you can see the guts spray better and—"

"Suddenly, I have an understanding as to why you enjoy these films so much." Arthur smirked at Alfred as he got into the passenger side of the car, and Alfred gave a smile as he shrugged in agreement. "It _was_ different though, watching a film on the large screen like that without any light. It certainly felt as if you were more a part of the film rather than just a spectator."

"And the explosions look way badass on a screen that size!"

Arthur sighed and shook his head again, a small smile popping up on his face before he thought to disguise it in a frown—Alfred reached over and gave the other man's knee a squeeze before starting up their car and heading back home.

* * *

**Drive**

_Now, there's no need to be nervous, old boy. You've practiced enough in parking structures to be able to handle some lonely road in Pennsylvania at such an early hour that no one else would even bother being on the road at the same time. And Alfred will be there with you—not that that matters or that his presence is needed, you could drive the car on your own just fine, the license you have states that. Granted, it's a little odd seeing your name on a license knowing all the other information has been forged by somewhat questionable means—does that still make the license legal? I suppose so—oh quit this nonsense, you old fool! It works, you earned it, and Kiku was quite confident in the identity he'd created for you and it's held up thus far. End of story._

Arthur took another deep breath as he sat behind the wheel of Alfred's car, a 2011 Ford Mustang in deep blue that just _fit_ the younger man, the keys resting in the ignition but not actually turning on the car yet. He'd just got his license the previous week, something Alfred had insisted he needed as a newly instated US citizen (though Kiku had been kind enough to give him dual citizenship to the UK as well which was thoughtful of him—Arthur wondered again how Alfred's editor managed to do that, but decided whatever shady connections the polite man had were his own business), and though he'd driven a little in the suburbs of New York City, this was his first official time driving long term. They were visiting Alfred's parents for the 4th of July, and his parents lived not far from a rural road that Alfred had learned to drive on as a teenager. Apparently, it was the best place to learn and not a lot of people, other than locals, knew about it; Arthur had learned that it was better for his sanity to just try to go along with Alfred's schemes when he got so excited than to try and fight them.

Alfred, was sitting in the passenger seat, bouncing somewhat impatiently, as Arthur tried to work past the nervousness and start the car, his glasses slipping down his nose as he bounced. He sighed noisily and gave Arthur an unimpressed look that made the Brit's face heat up in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. He was new to this! He was allowed to be nervous about driving on an actual road with lots of curves and no stop signs and potentially crazy locals who wouldn't have patience to put up with his beginner's driving! He glared at Alfred and slapped his shoulder.

"Would you quit that bloody bouncing? Christ, have a bit of patience, would you?"

"Patience? We've been sitting here for like fifteen minutes, Arthur! How much time do you need to turn the damn car on? I mean, do you need help, did you forget how? All you gotta do is turn the key away from—"

"I know how to turn on the car, you idiot!"

"Well then do something! You're not going to learn how to really drive by just sitting here, staring at the wheel!"

Arthur glared hotly at Alfred, emitting a low growl of anger as he angrily brought the car roaring to life and backed out of the driveway, knuckles white from their tight grip on the steering wheel. Alfred smirked at him in victory, obviously thinking he had won some sort of argument or contest between the two of them, which just infuriated Arthur more. He always had to make everything a bloody contest, always had to be right, and always had to win! He swore, if he didn't love the blasted boy so much, he'd kill him.

He followed Alfred's smug sounding directions towards the rural road, taking care to drive under the speed limit, which only seemed to make Alfred more smug and amused, and by the time they reached the road, the car was nearly crackling with Arthur's anger. His anger had overtaken any nervousness he'd had previously about driving; running through his veins and making the doubt he'd had in himself all but vanish. Alfred's soft laughter as he slowly turned onto the twisting road, informing him to just pull off if anyone wanted to go around him and his 'poky' driving lit a fire within he hadn't known existed and he felt a smirk overtake his face as he shifted the car into the 4th gear. _Well, let's just see who's laughing in a moment, you insolent little cur!_

He pressed the gas pedal down and nearly flew down the highway, his smirk growing when he heard Alfred give a startled yelp and hurriedly put on his seatbelt—served the arse right. The surrounding countryside and suburban neighborhoods faded into a rushed blur as he flew the Mustang down the winding road, following Arthur's turns and instructions wonderfully. There was no one else on the road at this hour, either due to the coldness or the holidays, and Arthur felt the last of any nervousness he might have had fade away into sheer joy and excitement as he sped up the Mustang down a long stretch of empty road. He felt a thrill lick up his spine and anticipation thrum through his fingertips as the car went faster and faster—he had never experienced such freedom before, such reckless abandonment in his previous life. It was different than anything he felt with Alfred, not better but different and wholly new to him.

Alfred still looked torn between being shocked and nervous, but he had stopped gripping the seat after a time, relaxing into the drive and shooting Arthur a wide grin whenever the former ghost took a turn particularly fast and they could both feel their stomachs flutter in excitement. They enjoyed their fearless drive for another half hour or so until other cars began joining them, forcing Arthur to ease off the gas and begin exercising all the rules he'd learned, finding a bit of his nervousness return as he was forced to share the roads with the locals. Alfred asked if he wanted to head back to the house for breakfast and he gave a nod, following Alfred's not so smug directions back. Arthur wasn't mad at him anymore anyway—he felt alive with energy and couldn't seem to shake off the truly genuine smile on his face.

"Jeez, man…who knew you'd be a speedster like that! You drove really well at those speeds too; looks like you're a natural and certainly don't need my help anymore!" Alfred said excitedly, a bit of chagrin in his eyes as Arthur glanced over.

"Well I—I don't know if I'd quite go that far. I have only had the license for a week, you know. I'd fully understand if you still wished to accompany me to keep an eye on your car, it'd only be natural."

Alfred grinned and shook his head before he leaned over and gave Arthur a noisy kiss on his cheek, murmuring something about how Arthur was an 'adrenaline junkie.' "Oi, quit that you wanker, I'm driving!"

"I can't fucking wait to take you to Six Flags! You'll love it!"

Arthur snorted and kept his eyes forward the rest of the way home; it was the safest bet, couldn't risk snogging his boyfriend in the car while trying to drive, now could he?

* * *

**Family**

Arthur was nervous.

He was more than nervous, he was bloody terrified, if he was going to be honest with himself. He wiped his hands on the nice, black slacks he got specifically for the occasion and fiddled with the green tie (Alfred' choice, not Arthur's) underneath his dark grey sweater. He was sure he looked a wreck—his hair had refused to cooperate that morning, his face was pale and not amount of pinching seemed to bring color to his cheeks, and he had horribly chapped lips. He tried to flatten his hair for the millionth time that morning when he felt Alfred grab his hand and tug it towards his mouth, placing a small kiss on his palm and flashing a reassuring smile.

"Quit fussing, Arthur, you look great and they'll love you! You've already met Mattie and he loves you, I promise my parents are way easier to please than my brother!"

Arthur glared and tugged his hand back. "I look ridiculous and it is a big deal, you daft fool! These are your parents, I am a bloody reanimated ghost, and you gave me half of your heart to bring me back! What if they don't—it's a big deal! You should take it more seriously!"

Arthur huffed and fiddled with his tie again, which prompted Alfred, never one to take a hint, to sigh dramatically and tug the hand back over again, pulling Arthur along this time, who landed against Alfred's broad chest with a slight _oomph._ He frowned up at the smiling, amused face and tried to pull away, but Alfred merely tightened his unusually strong grip on his hands and kept him close.

"I am taking this seriously, otherwise I wouldn't have brought you home for Thanksgiving. Listen, my parents won't care about you being a former ghost or that you've got 'half my heart' or that you're a guy. They'll see that I'm happy, that you make me happy, and that I'm totally smitten with you and they'll love you right back. I know it probably doesn't make a lot of sense, since you're used to people not being accepting…but believe me when I say that those are the last things you need to worry about from them. It was kinda scary when I first came out to them but they've been really great and supportive, even to other family members who were assholes about it."

Alfred leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to Arthur's forehead, pressing his supportive, affectionate smile along with. "Now, quit freaking out and breathe. I didn't go through all the trouble to bring you back for you to stress yourself out to a second death!"

He stepped away and smoothed his hands down Arthur's arms before taking a hand and walking up towards his parent's front door, flashing an excited grin before he rang the doorbell. Arthur took a deep breath and tried to quell the sudden urge to throw up his breakfast. He heard footsteps and took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves as the door opened, revealing a pleasant, pretty blonde woman who had the same bright blue eyes Alfred had. She gave an excited squeal and wrapped her son in a tight hug and a kiss before she looked excitedly over at Arthur.

"I'm guessing you're Arthur Kirkland, right? The name's Mary, Mary Jones, it's so nice to meet you, Artie!" That was all the warning he had before the blonde woman wrapped him in a tight hug and kissed his cheek—he was somewhat dazed when she released him and looked at him critically. "You're awfully thin, dear—Al, are you sure you're feeding him enough? Well, never mind that, I'll be sure to put some meat on those bones while you're staying with us!"

She tugged Arthur in the house after her, flashing him a warm, sunshine smile after yelling at Alfred to bring their things in while she gave a tour; Arthur felt a flash of nervousness flutter through him at the idea of being separated from Alfred, but the smile his mother gave, a smile she had passed on to her older son, made him feel like those nerves were unfounded. "So, Mattie and Al have both told me you used to be a ghost and that Al brought you back to life?"

Arthur wasn't sure how to respond, wasn't sure why his story was so easily accepted by Alfred's friends and family when it sounded like a crazy person's story, so he just nodded politely which made Mary laugh and give another friendly grin. "I'm not going to bite, dear. It's a fantastic sounding story, and if anyone other than my boys had told me I wouldn't believe a word of, but I raised my boys to tell the truth and if they say that's what happened, I believe them. There's magic all around you know, even if we can't see it! Oh, here's where you and Al will be staying. It's a bit cramped, but should do…I'm so happy he finally let me clean out all those comic books and posters he had put up."

Arthur stared at a room that still held echoes of a teenager Alfred and noticed that was only one bed inside, a full that would be a tight fit if there were two people sleeping on it. He stared and felt the words blurt out of him before he could think better of it. "You're having us sleep in the same bed?"

Mary gave him a quizzical look before she answered. "Of course, dear. You're my Al's partner, aren't you? It is a bit small, but you're both so thin…you'll both fit fine while you're here!"

Arthur stared and tried to find words again but none would come. Understanding flared up in Mary's eyes and she gave his hand a tight squeeze as she led them down the hall again and towards the large backyard. "You don't worry one hair on your head about that, dear. As long as you're in my home, I promise you won't hear one negative comment in regards to your relationship with my son. You love him, and he clearly is besotted with you, and that's all that matters as far as I'm concerned."

It was unreal; he knew that times were different, he truly did, but to find such unhindered acceptance was—it didn't seem possible. As different as the world was, there were plenty who still voiced the same opinion that his own family had, the same hate that had led to his murder, and the same refusal to accept anything that was different. Alfred had told him, had reassured him time and time again, but he had not believed Alfred's family could be so welcoming and understanding. It made him feel a tickle of sadness, that his own family could not find it within themselves to accept both the magic surrounding him and who he shared his bed with, but it also made him feel truly, truly touched and loved.

In the end, he couldn't find a way to voice all of that into words, as was usual given the age he had been raised which encouraged to conceal one's true emotions, and could only utter two words. "Thank you."

Mary though, in an innate way mothers had, understood everything anyway and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "Of course, dear. Oh good, you're back Alfred. All unloaded?"

"Yes, mom. Thanks for stealing my help, by the way." Alfred sidled up alongside Arthur and grinned playfully, resting an arm around Arthur's shoulders casually. "You better enjoy the special treatment while it lasts…next year she'll be putting you to work just like everyone else. Mattie's girlfriend, Oksana*, got the same treatment last year and where is she now? Helping Matt clean out shed, that's where."

"Hush up you! You'll give away all our secrets and he'll never come back! How else are your father and I supposed to find free labor then? Now, let's go out and say hello to your father, Lord knows if we ignore him much longer he'll be whining about how I'm hogging you boys all night!"

Mary and Alfred laughed, and while Arthur didn't join in, he did smile and twine his fingers with Alfred, for once not the least bit self-conscious that anyone would see them and think anything over than they were in love. It was a nice feeling.

* * *

**Night**

Alfred sighed in complete and utter happiness, wide awake and unable to sleep and not caring one whit about it. Why should he after all? He was happy, he'd just had sex, and now he was running his fingers up and down Arthur's bare back as the older man (in some ways MUCH older) slept. Arthur's warm, even exhales tickled across his chest, his face pale and smooth as he slept, a much different contrast to the face that had been hovering above his own an hour earlier, dark and flushed with desire and quick breaths as he thrust hard into Alfred, bringing them both to completion. Two sides, same coin and all that…why was he getting so philosophical at 2 AM?

Alfred took another deep breath and sighed again, blissful and sated and wondering how in the world he got so lucky. Well, he knew the how really, he'd been there, saved Arthur like a good hero should—but the how wasn't the question he supposed. Maybe it was the why did he get so lucky. Why had he been able to see Arthur, why had Kiku arranged for Alfred to stay in that old creep house all those years ago, why had the fairies and unicorns decided he was the one to help? Why had Arthur decided to stay with him once he had his freedom, why did he put up with all of Alfred's quirks, why did Alfred put up with Arthur's, why when each of them had wanted nothing more than to just give up and walk away had they never been able to, which allowed them to come to their senses again?

What had he done to get to be this happy other than being awesome and creating the most kick-ass comic book character who was now starring in his third movie?

It was a little bit like fate, he mused as he tugged Arthur closer so that the crown of his head tickled his chin, smiling at the sleepy murmur that escaped his partner of nearly fifteen years, his soul mate, as cheesy as that was. Alfred never really believed in fate to be honest, and he still didn't, but it was hard to look at Arthur and not wonder just a tiny bit. When you really thought about, it really was like the stars had aligned and everything had been planned from the start, which kind of made Alfred angry since that was saying that Arthur had to be murdered to find happiness later in life, but still. He had come at just the right time, could see Arthur and bam, he's the one who's able to bring a ghost back to life and they get to have their own version of happily ever after. Maybe he was just really, super awesome in a past life or something…or maybe Arthur was the awesome one. Either or.

He shifted a bit, trying his hardest not to move Arthur too much or wake him up, wincing slightly at the sore feeling in his lower back, maneuvering until he was on his side and Arthur gathered against him. Spooning…best thing ever invented. He stared at Arthur's face for a moment before he thought he was getting a bit too creepy and pressed his nose behind the shorter man's ear. Seriously, he was so fucking happy it was unreal—he was almost too happy, like if he smiled any more his face would split or something. These moods came on him from time to time, usually when he couldn't sleep, like now, where he couldn't believe he was so happy and what he had done to deserve it.

It was sappy talk that he knew he couldn't really talk to anyone else about (except maybe Elizaveta…but that was an option he generally declined). He wasn't even sure if he even wanted to talk to anyone else about it; it really didn't seem important and he was sure it would be pretty annoying if he went on to someone about how happy he was and how perfect things were with Arthur. Perfect was, of course, subjective, but it was their own brand of perfect; fights, irritating habits and all. And the fighting wasn't that bad to be honest…the make-up sex that came after a fight was always something to look forward too. Alfred wondered if Arthur picked stupid fights for that very reason—the former ghost was a little minx in bed, no matter what he said or tried to fool Alfred with.

Maybe Alfred was just Arthur's happiness, maybe he really just got to go along for the ride as the Cosmos made up for what a truly shitty life and death Arthur had before and his end of the bargain was to make sure that he kept Arthur happy. Not too bad of a deal to be honest—certainly not something Alfred had any trouble agreeing to. Maybe it really didn't matter, maybe that was just their lot in life, a combination of fate and free will, where fate had guided them too and what their choices had defined from then. Alfred sighed and tried to shut up all the stupid philosophical talk in his head; it really wasn't conducive to his need of sleep.

He took Arthur's hand and rested it over his heartbeat, smiling in the dark how his heart mimicked the beat within Arthur's chest in these quiet moments. He fingered the gold band on Arthur's finger, a simple, gold design that matched the one on Alfred's hand. He closed his eyes, whispered how much he loved Arthur into his hair and that he would never leave him, and counted along with their heartbeats, happy that he'd been given such a gift, such a chance with Arthur. Happy he was home.

_Finis _

_

* * *

_

*Santos= Portugal

*Angelique= Seychelles

*Oksana= Ukraine

Review, _da_?


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